Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent eBook

“‘Goon,’ said Phil, whose language,
as well as valor, was fairly exhausted, ’it’s
well you’re a fire-eater, and my father a magistrate,
or by my honor, I’d know how to deal with you.’

“Such, my dear Spinageberd, is a domestic sketch
of the Agent and Under Agent of that exceedingly sapient
nobleman, Lord Cumber; and if ever, excellent landlord
that he is, he should by any possible chance come
to see these lines, perhaps he might be disposed to
think that an occasional peep at his own property,
and an examination into the principles upon which
it is managed, might open to him a new field of action
worth cultivating, even as an experiment not likely
to end in any injurious result to either him or it.
In a day or two I shall call upon Mr. Solomon M’Slime,
with whom I am anxious to have a conversation, as,
indeed, I am with the leading characters on the property.
You may accordingly expect an occasional batch of
observations from me, made upon the spot, and fresh
from my interviews with the individuals to whom they
relate.”

CHAPTER XVII.—­A Moral Survey, or a Wise Man led by a Fool

—­Marks of Unjust Agency—­Reflections
thereon—­A Mountain Water-Spout, and Rising
of a Torrent—­The Insane Mother over the
Graves of her Family—­Raymond’s Humanity—­His
Rescue from Death.

“Friday, * * *

“I have amused myself—­you will see
how appropriate the word is by and by—­since
my last communication, in going over the whole Castle
Cumber estate, and noting down the traces which this
irresponsible and rapacious oppressor, aided by his
constables, bailiffs, and blood-hounds, have left
behind them. When I describe the guide into whose
hands I have committed myself, I am inclined to think
you will not feel much disposed to compliment me on
my discretion;—­the aforesaid guide being
no other than a young fellow, named Raymond-na-Hattha,
which means, they tell me, Raymond of the Hats—­a
sobriquet very properly bestowed on him in consequence
of a habit he has of always wearing three or four
hats at a time, one within the other—­a
circumstance which, joined to his extraordinary natural
height and great strength, gives him absolutely a
gigantic appearance. This Raymond is the fool
of the parish; but in selecting him for my conductor,
I acted under the advice of those who knew him better
than I could. There is not, in fact, a field
or farm-house, or a cottage, within a circumference
of miles, which he does not know, and where he is not
also known. He has ever since his childhood evinced
a most extraordinary fancy for game cocks—­an
attachment not at all surprising, when it is known
that not only was his father, Morgan Monahan, the most
celebrated breeder and handler of that courageous
bird—­but his mother, Poll Doolin—­married
women here frequently preserve, or are called by, their
maiden names through life—­who learned it
from her husband, was equally famous for this very